


Circle of Dust

by Chandrian



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Cuddles, Depression, F/M, Love, Season/Series 06, Slaying, Spuffy, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 08:27:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13971189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chandrian/pseuds/Chandrian
Summary: Buffy has kind of an awful day on the adulting front and eventually asks Spike to go a-slaying with her. Things start to heat up but not quite 'that' hot.Rated Violent for Slaying Reasons





	Circle of Dust

The day had not started off well. When Buffy had finally dragged herself out of bed and downstairs to the kitchen, Dawn had been there stuffing her face with Tara’s pancakes. Not so terrible an occurrence, but Dawn had then told Buffy that her English teacher wanted to speak with Buffy about her grades. 

Perfect.

So after cleaning herself up (she hadn’t showered after patrol the night before) Buffy made her way to Dawn’s school, prepared to be an adult and caregiver to her little sister.

The meeting did not go well.

The teacher (Ms. Sewell) had informed Buffy that Dawn’s English grade was very poor and that unless Dawn received tutoring, she was likely to fail the class and be held back. Ms. Sewell didn’t come right out and say that it was Buffy’s fault, but the glint in the woman’s eyes practically screamed “It’s your fault your sister is an idiot.”

After this dispiriting meeting, Buffy went to the Magic Box to consult with Giles, the only actual adult she knew anymore. Anya sort of counted, but not when it came to human things. 

“So she tells me I should hire a tutor for Dawn because otherwise she’ll fail English and get held back, and of course Dawn would be furious at me if she didn’t start high school next year so that certainly can’t happen, but how am I supposed to afford a tutor when I can barely afford to keep the lights on at home? I mean, who does Ms. Sewell think I am any--”

“I’m sorry,” Giles interrupted, pulling his signature move of taking off and polishing his glasses. “Wh-who is this Ms. Sewell?”

“Dawn’s English teacher, Giles, come on,” Buffy replied, feeling a twinge of annoyance that he hadn’t heard her mention this when she’d started her story a few minutes ago. “Anyway, every teacher there knows that mom died last year, it’s not like they don’t  _ know _ that I’m raising Dawn by myself and that I work at the stupid meat palace. I’m pretty sure I’ve served several of her teachers a doublemeat special, and I’m sure they gossip about former students all the time, right Giles?”

“Hmm?” came Giles absent-minded reply. Buffy rolled her eyes as he said, “Oh-oh, yes of course. Yes, we educators never had anything more important to discuss than our graduates.”

“Your sarcastic tone is not helping my situation, Giles.” Buffy barely managed not to pout or throw something. It was hard enough facing the English teacher alone; now she had to face a sarcastic Englishman with no support (Anya was doing “inventory” downstairs with Xander).

Giles sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Look, Buffy, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. I mean if--if this Ms. Sewell person thinks that Dawn needs extra help in order to move on in school then I think it must be taken seriously. Now, I don’t mean that you should get a tutor,” Giles put in before Buffy could protest. “But perhaps Willow or--or Tara could help Dawn with her English work. I would volunteer, but then I seem to recall that you never really appreciated my help with your schoolwork and I rather imagine that your sister would be much the same.”

“Well,” Buffy grumbled, picking her thumbnail. “I can ask them for help, but they’re both so busy with their own classes--”

“No, I think they should help,” Giles cut in, picking up a book from the glass counter where Buffy sat and carrying it over to a shelf. “I mean, they are living with you and--” he stopped and turned to her, book still in his hands. “Are either of them paying rent?”

Buffy shuffled uncomfortably. This was something she’d been thinking about a lot lately. With four girls in the house, the monthly utility bill was always high, plus the mortgage on the house, and food and clothes and everything. Money was going out but it was barely coming in, and two renters would help, if only a little.

“Not--really, no.” Buffy twisted her fingers in her lap. “Willow and Tara moved in after I--you know--and they were really good to Dawn while I was gone and I just feel like I owe them so much for that that I--”

“Haven’t wanted to ask them for money?” Giles said quietly. “No matter how much you need it?”

Buffy nodded, feeling miserable. She generally felt miserable, but whenever she thought about money or raising Dawn she inevitably managed to feel more miserable than normal. 

“Buffy.” Giles spoke softly, coming to her side and setting the book back on the counter. He then put a hand on her shoulder, in the fatherly way he always had. “I know you’re trying your hardest, but if Willow and Tara are living with you they should contribute to your bills. Certainly it was kind of them to jump in and help Dawn after--after you left, but they must be responsible adults the same as you.”

Buffy looked up at Giles. He had a soft smile on his face, the kind he mostly seemed to get when he looked at her. It made her feel safe, in a way she hadn’t since her mom. 

“Okay,” she said in a small voice. “I’ll try and bring it up, in a--you know, casual way when the next bill comes in.” She tried to sit up straight and look the part of the “responsible adult” that Giles had just suggested she was. 

“Good girl,” he murmured as he patted her on the shoulder and took the book up again. “Oh by the way,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ve heard there’s a pack of ferals in the west cemetery, you might want to take a look tonight.”

“You got it, boss,” Buffy replied as she gave a mock salute in his direction.

* * *

 

After her talk with Giles, Anya and Xander had come up from the storeroom giggling like fools. Buffy had very little stomach for this sort of affection lately so she left quickly after they returned. 

Deciding she should try to be responsible, she returned home and started to clean. When mom was alive, she’d done a little cleaning. Dusting, sweeping, the occasional toilet. But ever since she’d come back, she’d been doing most of the cleaning herself. Tara helped sometimes and Buffy made sure that Dawn had a few regular chores around the house, but otherwise Buffy did most of the housework herself. 

It was drudgery and fairly mindless, but every time Buffy settled down to clean something she devoted her entire mind to the task. She refused to let this temptingly absent-minded duty become a time when she drifted. She tried to save that for when she was in bed, when no one would notice. 

So Buffy cleaned. She scrubbed the shared bathroom (which was covered in hair). She washed all the dishes. She did several loads of laundry. She cleaned old food out of the fridge. She was determined that her mother’s house would be clean. The way it used to be. 

A few hours later, she’d finished all the cleaning there was to do. The last load of Dawn’s clothes was in the dryer and the wearer of those clothes would be back soon. Buffy went in to the bathroom and locked the door, not really a necessary thing as she was home alone. She then faced the mirror over the freshly cleaned sink and looked at herself. Her hair was mussed and her face glistened with the sweat of her efforts. She smelled strongly of bleach and her fingers felt raw after so much scrubbing. She looked into her green eyes, staring back at her, and she began to cry. 

Her tears were hot on her sweat-cooled face, blending with the salt that was already crusted there. She bent over the sink, face scrunched up as she keened as softly as she could. She ached to get this sadness out of her. Every day hurt more than the next, because every day was another that she had to suffer through. Her fingers cracked on the porcelain sink and she let go, afraid to break the countertop. She sank down to the floor, its cool linoleum refreshing to her hot legs. She lay down, wanting to press her warm face to the cold. It shocked her slightly, causing her to gasp. She felt a few tears on her lip but she did not wipe them away. Buffy curled up, pulling her legs to her chest and putting her head to her knees. She could feel her tears soaking into her sweatpants, could feel the dampness on her cheeks when her sobs moved her face against them. 

Buffy cried for what seemed like a long time, as most crying does. Eventually her sobs weakened, until she was breathing quickly against her thighs. Her breaths slowed gradually, and her shoulders relaxed as she loosened her grip around her legs, softening into the cool floor beneath her. She heaved a sigh from the depths of her lungs. Dawn would be home soon. 

Buffy got up from the floor, this time avoiding the mirror. She started a cold shower and cleaned off quickly, drenching her face in cool water so that her puffy eyes would calm down. She toweled off and dressed again, this time in patrolling clothes for later. 

As she padded downstairs to where she’d left her boots (she didn’t like being barefoot, in case of a surprise attack) Dawn came through the front door. Buffy quickly felt her eyes before Dawn saw her and gave a shout of greeting.

“Buffy! You’re home!” Dawn sprang forward and hugged Buffy tightly. With a sharp inhale, Buffy took in the scent of her sister’s shampoo. It was a comforting smell. 

“Hey, Dawnie,” she replied, pulling aside a strand of long brown hair. “Of course I’m home, where else would I be?”

Dawn released Buffy and dropped her school bag by the door as she moved over to the couch. 

“Well I wasn’t sure if you’d be at the Magic Box or here, so it’s sort of a surprise.” Dawn giggled and grabbed the remote, flopping into a reclining position. “What’s for dinner?”

“I don’t know, I guess we’ll wait for Willow and Tara and see what they had in mind,” Buffy said as she lifted Dawn’s legs and sat beneath them on their overstuffed couch. “How was school?”

“Oh my gosh, it was so boring today, except for during lunch when this one kid…”

Buffy listened as Dawn filled her in on the details of her day. Occasionally she drifted out of the conversation, letting Dawn talk while Buffy just watched her sister. Dawn had been through so much over the last few years: Glory, mom, Buffy, and just generally being a living teenager. Buffy could remember what it was like, and seeing her little sister laughing over youthful antics made her want to hope. 

“So how was the meeting with Ms. Sewell?” asked Dawn, flipping through channels. “Am I going to fail English or something?”

Buffy snapped back to the conversation before her and cleared her throat. “Well,” she began. “It looks like we might need to find you a tutor. Just to make sure that your grades are where they need to be.”

“Oh,” said Dawn, sitting up and muting the tv. “Can we afford that? I don’t want to be a bother or anything--”

“No!” 

Buffy’s voice came out loudly, causing Dawn to jerk back. Her eyes, almost the same shade as Buffy’s, widened slightly. Buffy took a deep breath. 

“I mean, no,” she said again, quieter. “Don’t worry about that. Ever. Okay?” She pushed a lock of Dawn’s hair behind her ear as she nodded. “I’m going to ask Willow or Tara to help you out, and if they can’t--well, you can bug Giles for help. He’s English, so it should be easy, right?”

Buffy tried to smile encouragingly, but the movement felt strange on her face. Still, Dawn looked somewhat comforted as she nodded again and said, “Okay, Buffy. Thanks.”

Dawn unmuted the tv and they watched for a while together. Dawn eventually leaned over and put her head on Buffy’s shoulder, once more filling Buffy’s nostrils with the scent of her sister.

* * *

 

When Willow and Tara arrived home from school, they all decided to have pizza (again). Willow and Tara shared a vegetable pizza while Dawn gorged on a meat lover’s (Buffy just nibbled at a slice). Tara good-naturedly agreed to tutor Dawn in English (Willow said she was too busy with classwork to be of much help). As Buffy’s three housemates sat down to watch tv, she prepared to head out on patrol. 

“Aw, aren’t you going to stay and watch with us?” Dawn asked, with a whine in her voice that had once grated on Buffy. 

“I’ve got Slaying to do,” she said casually. “Giles said there’s a feral nest out west so I’m gonna go take care of it.”

“Oh, do you want some help?” asked Willow, perking up. She’d been very interested in helping with patrol lately, as it gave her a creative outlet for her magics. 

“Nah, I’ve got this. I can take out a pack of ferals in my sleep.” Buffy spoke in her most confident voice to reassure her little pack of family that she would be all right. “I’ll see you guys later. Love you, Dawnie.”

“Love you too, Buff!” Dawn replied with a mouthful of popcorn muffling her words.

Buffy left the house and closed the door behind her. She gave a sigh of relief and headed toward the cemetery. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with Dawn and her friends. But when she was on patrol, she didn’t have to pretend to be alright. The vampires and monsters didn’t care if she looked sad or didn’t pay attention to conversations. When she was fighting and running for her life, she was free. 

She found herself moving toward a different cemetery however, one more familiar than the one out west. Still, she kept walking. It couldn’t hurt to invite Spike along on this patrol. Her friends couldn’t be of too much help, but Spike was a vamp. He could take care of himself. 

A few minutes later she was in front of Spike’s crypt, hand poised to knock. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should feel guilty that she was going to invite Spike along when she’d denied her best friend. Shaking her head, Buffy shoved this feeling aside and knocked rapidly on Spike’s door. Several seconds passed, and then with a grinding of metal the door opened to reveal Spike. 

He was dressed as usual. Black jeans, black t-shirt, black boots. His white-blonde hair was slicked back from his angular face, all cheekbones and lips. These curled into a half-smile, half-smirk as he took her in, and he said, “Well, hello, Slayer. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hi, Spike. Want to go on patrol with me?” Even when asking something so business-related and filled with the promise of death, Buffy couldn’t help but feel like she was asking Spike on a date. She had a sudden vision of Spike in a tuxedo, carrying a bouquet of roses. She shook her head to be rid of this image, focusing on Spike again as he cocked his head in a motion second nature to him.

“Alright, love. Hang on a minute, then.”

He spun around, returning inside, presumably to fetch his long black coat. He was only gone a few moments before he was back, pulling the leathery beast over his muscular shoulders. “Right, let’s carry on then. What are we killing?”

Buffy, who had been watching the play of Spike’s muscles beneath his tight t-shirt as he put his coat on, looked west and pointed. “Giles says there’s a pack of ferals in a cemetery out that way. I thought a little back up might be nice.”

“Anytime, Buff,” Spike said with a grin as he settled his duster firmly over his chest. “Lead the way.” 

They were silent as they walked toward their destination. Buffy had confided in Spike a few times about how she felt now that she was alive again. He more or less understood what she’d gone through, and he didn’t seem to blame her for feeling regret about being back. What’s more, he accepted her depression without a second thought, as though the reasons for feeling the way she did didn’t matter as much as the feelings themselves. She was wordlessly grateful to Spike for allowing her to feel how she did without making her feel more guilt than she already did. This was why she chose to be with Spike over the others. With them, her silence or distant gaze was off-putting and made them uncomfortable. Buffy knew that they just worried about her, but their unconcealed anxiety for her only made her feel more guilty and depressed. With Spike, he didn’t comment when she stopped talking or wasn’t paying attention. Sometimes he continued talking, mostly to himself; other times he joined her in silence, occasionally glancing at her calmly; on a few occasions, he’d even offered her his hand, just to hold. Sometimes she held his hand, sometimes she didn’t. She remembered what Spike felt for her, but in those moments he wasn’t offering this touch selfishly: it was to show that he was there for her, even when she didn’t want to be there at all. 

Spike carefully broke into the silence. “So how was the day?”

Buffy looked up from the concrete. They were on a pretty tree-lined street, getting close to the cemetery now. 

“Could’ve been better,” she replied with a sigh. “Apparently Dawn might fail English if I don’t get her a tutor.”

“What?” Spike said disbelievingly. “But the Niblet’s got brains, what’s she need a bloody tutor for?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Buffy. “But her teacher says her grade is really low and she might fail and get held back. She--” Buffy continued hesitantly. “She kinda seemed to think it was my fault.”

Spike stopped walking and she stopped with him, turning to face him. He pointed a long pale finger at her. “That’s rubbish, Slayer,” he said firmly. “Whatever grades the Niblet’s got, they’re nothing to do with you. Yeah, they might’ve taken a dive after you kicked it, but since you’ve been back it’s been up to her, right? She gets a bad mark, nothing to do with you, get it?” He held his finger in her face, and seemed intent on making her understand this point. 

“Okay,” Buffy said, turning away and walking again. “Dawn’s grades aren’t my fault. But I should get a tutor for her, and I did. Tara said she’ll help out.”

“Too right she should, what with mooching off you and all--”

“You’re the second person today to say that!” Buffy exclaimed, whirling on him now. “Tara and Willow stepped in to help Dawn after I left, I owe them for taking care of her!”

“After you  _ died _ , Buffy,” Spike said quietly but firmly. “Don’t get metaphorical on me now.”

Buffy met his gaze. Despite his generally cavalier attitude, Spike could be very serious, as he was now. She set her jaw. 

“They moved in after I  _ died _ . When I wasn’t there to look after her, they were.” 

“Yeah, but you’re back and they’re still living with you. They can’t keep riding the coattails of your death, can they? They gotta step up, do what they can to make life easier for you.” A little bit of worry crept into Spike’s voice at these words. He of everyone she was close to understood exactly what she felt about being alive. By rights he should be worried about her. But she preferred his sympathy to be unspoken.

“Let’s just kill these ferals and be done with it.”

With that she turned from him and stalked toward the cemetery. What she needed right now was to punch a vampire in the face, and she was very close to punching Spike’s. 

He seemed to sense that she was close to snapping because he didn’t say another word until they reached the cemetery on the west side of Sunnydale, where Buffy paused at the entrance.

“Okay, so Giles didn’t say where these ferals were supposed to be, so I say we split up and search.” She did not solicit his opinion on her plan.

“Righto, Captain Buffy,” Spike replied, rolling his eyes and giving a mock salute, like the one she’d given Giles a few hours ago. 

“That’s General Buffy,” she snapped, and she moved off toward the left batch of graves. She heard Spike scoff behind her but his steps went away toward the graves on the right. 

As she patrolled through the graveyard with a stake in hand, she sighed while looking around. She’d been through a lot with Spike since he’d first shown up in Sunnydale. He’d tried to kill her for a while, then he’d helped her with Angel--sort of. Mostly helping himself. Then he was gone, then he came back and kidnapped Willow and Xander, then he tried to kill her again while helping Adam, then he was in love with her and then she’d died. It was almost as crazy a relationship as the one she had with Angel. Except so far, she hadn’t killed Spike. Not for lack of motivation of course; he was useful sometimes. Like tonight, when she didn’t really want to take on the ferals alone but didn’t want her friends around.

There was a soft creak from one of the mausoleums up ahead and Buffy halted. She listened intently but didn’t hear anything further. It might have been just a rat or a branch from one of the many low-hanging trees around her, but it could also have been something more…

She crept forward, cautiously placing her stylish yet affordable boots in the cushy grass. Her stake was ready in her hand and she was oh so ready to take down a pack of crazy vampires.

There was a sudden snarl from her right and she dropped into a fighting crouch, stake raised in a defensive position. There was a flash of white-blonde followed by swishing black, all accompanied with a loud snarl. 

Buffy rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day and leapt into the fray.

Spike was grappling a skinny vampire with red hair while two more vamps came running from a crypt up ahead. Buffy leapt over a headstone, tucked into a roll and came up with her stake in the first vampire’s heart. The girl vamp looked down in confusion before exploding in a poof of dust. 

Buffy could now see the vampire that was behind the girl. He had stopped upon seeing his companion disintegrate and was now trying to circle Buffy, who could still hear Spike fighting behind her. 

The vamp tried to duck in close to her, feinting right and then darting left, but Buffy was too on edge to be taken in by this. She crouched under his clumsily sweeping arms and brought her stake up into his heart. He then fell apart just like his girlfriend had. The silence behind Buffy told her that Spike had managed to finish off the red-head as well, and when she turned he was dusting off his hands. 

“Well, that wasn’t much of a challenge. I thought the old fella said there was a pack around he--”

Spike was tackled abruptly from the shadows of the mausoleum as more vampires emerged from the darkness. 

“You all came out to see me? Way to make the search real difficult, guys.”

With that Buffy was off, slaying left and right while a small horde of vampires came at her from all sides.  _ This  _ was what she lived for right now. Not her friends, not her family. The fight. The hunt. It was enough to drain her of energy so that when she fell into bed at night she could fall asleep quickly, rather than toss and turn for hours. 

She made quick work of the ferals until she stood alone in a circle of dust. Buffy called out.

“Is that it? No more nasty vamps hiding out here? Come on, give me a  _ challenge _ !”

But no more came. She turned in a circle, glancing everywhere for a sign of another vampire she could kill. 

“Buffy--”

She whirled, arm flashing out like a snake but Spike caught her, fingers cool against her wrist. His eyes were wide as he gazed into her face, panting just as she was from exertion. Her stake was inches from his heart. 

“Calm down, love,” he said breathlessly. “They’ve all been slayed. I’m the only vamp here now.”

Buffy wrenched her wrist out of his grip and cracked her neck, tucking the stake into a pocket. 

“Yeah, I know. Slayed. Done.” Even Buffy could tell that she did not sound okay. There was almost a hint of panic in her voice. She swallowed hard and looked around the cemetery, avoiding Spike’s eyes which were still on her face.

“So, we should probably keep patrolling. Come on,” she said, panicked tone successfully squashed, and headed out of the cemetery. Once again, Spike scoffed quietly behind her back but followed her lead. 

They did a round through all the other graveyards in Sunnydale (there were a lot) and a few of the seedier parts of town before returning to Spike’s cemetery. Aside from the ferals at the start of the night, they hadn’t encountered any other baddies, which was good for Sunnydale but bad for Buffy.

At last they reached Spike’s crypt, where Spike turned to Buffy and gave a sort of half grimace, half smile. 

“Well, great patrol tonight, Slayer. Really well done.” There was a brief and awkward pause while Buffy just looked at him. She’d spent a lot of time with Spike lately and he generally had a calming effect on her, but on a few occasions, like tonight, he got her blood up, either from annoyance or…something else.

“Anyway,” Spike said, giving a curt nod and another mock salute to her. “See you around, Slayer. Always up for a patrol with--”

Buffy kissed him. She just leaned forward, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips to his. 

A new feeling flared up inside her, a hunger that was different from her need to fight and kill. She wanted, no  _ needed _ to be close to Spike, to feel him next to her, his skin against her, his--

“Buffy, stop!” Spike growled against her mouth as he pushed her off. He kept his hands on her shoulders, holding her down so when she tried to jump back up to kiss him again she was restrained.

She could break his hold if she tried, could forcibly bring his face to hers. But she didn’t. The new hunger was still inside her, clawing its way through her body like an alien force. 

“I thought--I mean, before I left...and we’ve been spending a lot of time together, I thought you still--” 

Her hunger was being drowned now. She could still feel desire crawling within her, but doubt and pain were surging up from where she’d pressed them down during patrol. She’d misread him? He no longer cared the way he had before she died? 

“Buffy,” Spike began in a gentle voice, hands still on her shoulders but now his thumbs were brushing her softly. “I do. Hey--” he caught her chin and pulled it up so she was forced to look at him. His eyes were warm and kind, and he had a small smile across his lips. “I love you, Buffy. That hasn’t gone anywhere, and it’s not going anywhere.”

“But you stopped me,” she said in a small voice. She shook herself and began to pull away, eyes downcast again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll go and--”

Lips took her own, effectively silencing her. Spike’s arms gathered her close, pressing her against his muscular chest and holding her. It was a sweet kiss, not greedy and desperate like her own had been. As kissed her, Spike stroked her hair against her back, his other hand still on her shoulder. 

After a few moments, he pulled away, eyes still on hers. 

“You need to calm down, love,” he said in a husky voice. “I’m here for you, just like I have been for weeks now. But as much as I’d like to, I’m not gonna let this happen just because you’re feeling down. It ain’t right. Alright?”

There was so much going on inside Buffy that she didn’t know what to say. Kissing Spike had given her something she hadn’t known she’d needed, or even wanted. But it made her feel in a way she hadn’t since before she’d died. 

His hand was on her face and she pressed into it. He didn’t move his hand away, but he smiled in a sad way. 

“I’m here for you,” he repeated. “But I need you to be here for me too. I’ve not been secret about how I feel about you, but I’d like to have you feel it too. At least a little.”

Buffy took a deep breath and took Spike’s hand from her face, holding it before her. 

“You’re not what I thought you’d be, Spike,” she admitted, still staring up at him. She couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed at this kind rejection or content with his affirmation of affection. She didn’t love Spike. Not yet. She still couldn’t quite get over the fact that he didn’t have a soul, like Angel. But he cared for her and understood her, and that meant a lot at the moment. 

“Ah, you do know me, Slayer,” he said casually, turning to open the door to his crypt. “I’m the Big Bad,” and he gave a rakish grin as he bowed her inside. “C’mon, take a break after all that slayage.”

Buffy hesitated. Minutes earlier, she hadn’t thought twice about spending the night with Spike. But now she was thinking of Dawn.

“I should really get back,” she said, taking a small step backwards. “I want to be there when Dawn gets up, in case she needs anything.”

Spike crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. “Come on, Slayer. The Niblet will be alright for one night while you hang out with your pal Spike. You really wanna go to bed by yourself?”

Buffy thought about it for a moment. Lying in bed, mind spinning over what had just happened, unable to sleep as anxiety slowly crept over her once more. She shook her head.

“Yeah.” She smiled at Spike. “I’ll stay. Willow and Tara--well definitely Tara--are there for Dawn. It’ll be fine.”

“That’s my girl,” Spike said smiling back at her.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> And then they went and watched reruns of soap operas for a few hours, cuddled a little, and Buffy fell asleep next to Spike and had a great night’s sleep hurray. I might go back and write about the cuddles, but this felt finished after they went into Spike's crypt.


End file.
